


When I Argue I See Shapes

by Netgirl_y2k



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Compliant, F/F, Fix-It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-27
Updated: 2016-09-27
Packaged: 2018-08-17 13:27:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8145730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Netgirl_y2k/pseuds/Netgirl_y2k
Summary: Sorry, John, she thought as heavy unconsciousness dragged her under, I have to go see an ASI about a girl.or,Root hands herself over to Samaritan.





	

"I'll surrender without a fight if you promise to leave Max alone and take me to the facility where Sameen Shaw is being held."

"Who?" said the Samaritan lackey.

"I wasn't talking to you."

"I cannot see you. But I recognise your behaviour." It was the first time Samaritan had ever spoken directly to Root. "You are an acolyte of the Machine."

"Now we're on the same page." Root stared directly into the security camera, like she had so many times before when communing with the Machine. "You heard my terms, do we have a deal?"

"If you are willing to surrender I will take you to the facility where Sameen Shaw is being held."

Root was so delighted that Samaritan had agreed to her deal that she almost managed not to flinch when the Samaritan goon whipped his pistol at her temple.

Root crumpled; she heard shots, and Reese calling her name. 

_Sorry, John_ , she thought as heavy unconsciousness dragged her under, _I have to go see an ASI about a girl._

*

Root had always had a reckless streak. It was part of her flawed, human code, and during her years as a killer for hire she'd done her best to work around that deficiency; she'd operated with redundancies and backup plans.

Root woke up in the dark with a hood over her head; half her world was silent, some Samaritan pawn must have been bright enough to rip off the external processor of her cochlear implant. She didn't know where she was and couldn't even guess at how long she'd been unconscious; so much for always having a backup plan.

Reese had seen her taken by Samaritan, he'd tell Harold, and they'd move the Machine - assuming John made it back to the subway, and assuming Harold didn't make the mistake of prioritising rescuing Root over keeping the Machine safe. 

When Samaritan's minions had ripped off her implant's external components they had removed her ability to talk directly to the Machine, but Root had to assume that wherever she was Samaritan was watching, and if Samaritan was listening too then the Machine could eavesdrop.

"I'm sorry," she began. "I had to--"

Root was grabbed and roughly hauled into a sitting position. Her hood was yanked up as far as the bridge of her nose and a sweet, chemically smelling cloth was forced over her nostrils and mouth. Samaritan must have decided that chloroform was a safer bet than risking damaging her cochlear implant by having her kicked in the head. 

"You have to go," Root started to say, but her mouth was muffled by the cloth and the darkness was already swallowing her.

*

Root woke wearing a thin hospital gown and strapped to a bed. 

Samaritan must have learned from Martine's snapped neck, because not only were the wrist and ankle restraints in use, but straps were pulled tight across her chest and thighs. 

She'd come round before, just long enough to hear the ominous silence in her right ear and feel the rising nausea before a Samaritan agent had knocked her out again.

There was no chloroform-soaked-cloth wielding agent this time; Greer was standing at the foot of her bed, though. 

"My dear Ms. Groves."

All things considered, Root would have preferred the chloroform. 

"Where's Shaw?" she demanded. Greer raised a condescending eyebrow. "I made a deal with the organ grinder, not the monkey. Ask Samaritan yourself."

Greer glanced at his phone. "Ah, yes. You agreed to hand yourself over in exchange for a promise to take you to the facility where Ms. Shaw has been residing. You'll find that Samaritan is as good as its word. You are both in the same facility. It is--" Greer paused meaningfully "--quite a large facility." 

"I want to see Shaw."

"Then it's a shame that's not the agreement you came to with Samaritan. In any case, you wouldn't have time for a reunion right now, we must get you to surgery." Greer nodded off to one side and a woman in scrubs flanked by two guards bustled in. "The sooner we remove your cochlear implant, the sooner Samaritan can find your Machine, eliminate Harold Finch and his associates, and end this silly little war."

The woman in scrubs stuck a needle into Root's arm. "Sorry," Root managed to say as the sedative flooded her system; she hoped that the Machine could hear her, and that She understood. She hoped that Harold and John were alive, and had moved the Machine to a safer location. She was clutching at straws now, but she hoped Greer wasn't lying about Shaw being here somewhere. 

In the grand tradition of people who found themselves in dire situations entirely of their own making, Root prayed to her God: _I picked Sameen, I'm sorry._

*

The first thing Root became aware of when she woke up was the unsettling silence in her right ear. 

Even when the Machine wasn't talking to her Root had been able to hear the buzz of noise relayed by her cochlear implant, and she'd taken comfort in the fact that the Machine's silences (caused by the Machine's fear of Samaritan listening in, Root's anger that the Machine wouldn't do more to help her find Sameen, and the Machine's frustration at Root's attempted murder of Elizabeth Bridges) could be broken by the Machine being a little braver or Root being a little less stubborn. Now there was only silence with no prospect of it being broken.

The second thing Root noticed was Jeremy Lambert sitting by her bedside; she was tempted to close her eyes and resume brooding on her deafness. 

"Good morning," said Lambert. "You'll be pleased to know that the surgery went well."

"Will I?" said Root drily; it was more of a croak, really.

"Yes, because while my natural inclination would have been to kill you, Samaritan has decided to keep you alive. If some fragment of your Machine does somehow survive it can't hurt to have its favoured pet hostage; it's a bit like kidnapping an elderly lady's beloved lapdog, I suppose."

Root couldn't help but take heart from that; John, Harry, and the Machine must still be fighting.

"Not only that, but Samaritan would like to show its appreciation of your--" Lambert's gaze tracked up Root's neck to where hasty stitches were itching behind her right ear "--sacrifice by allowing you to visit Ms. Shaw."

Lambert stood and offered Root his hand; Root noticed the gun in his other hand at the same time as she realised she wasn't strapped down. She rolled into a sitting position, her bare feet slapped onto the cool tile, and the world lurched wildly, weirdly sideways. 

Lambert caught Root around her biceps, and the only good thing was that her collapse had been so unwieldy that Lambert didn't realise that she'd been going for his gun.

He smiled disingenuously. "Shall I send for a wheelchair, then?"

*

Despite the fact that Root was in a wheelchair the man in the white coat still managed to look her up and down in a way that made her aware that she was wearing nothing but a hospital gown, and made her wish for a taser. 

"Are we letting them have a conjugal visit?" he asked. "Because this one doesn't look like she's up for much, and I've been told the subject is to be kept in this simulation for as long as possible."

Lambert sighed heavily. "Just make sure that she's ready for viewing, Stewart."

"Like you didn't watch those simulations too, _Jeremy_ ," Root heard Stewart mutter as she was wheeled past him into a room. 

Greer was waiting for them. "Ms. Groves, I'm so glad you could join us." There was a bank of monitors to Root's left, and in front of her was a pane of glass that she guessed was the fun side of a two-way mirror. 

On the other side of the glass was Shaw; unconscious but as far as Root could tell whole. She was attached to heart rate and brain activity monitors, and bulky VR goggles covered her eyes.

" _Sameen_ ," Root exhaled.

"Stewart," Greer spoke into an intercom, "show us the simulation as it stands."

One of the monitors flickered to life and Root saw double; Shaw was unconscious on the other side of the glass, but she was also on the monitor standing before an unmarked grave.

"Sorry, Root," said the VR Shaw on screen, "this just isn't my thing."

Root felt sick. "What is this?"

"Samaritan had limited success at using these simulations to find the Machine," said Greer. "You'll be pleased to know that even in the constructed reality you were a thorn in Samaritan's side. Ms. Shaw killed herself in over six thousand simulations before she'd risk your life--"

"It was very romantic," said Lambert, "if you like that sort of thing."

"Now that you have so generously turned yourself over to us we no longer need Ms. Shaw to lead us to the Machine, and Samaritan can turn its attention to recruiting her as an asset."

"She would never--!" Root spat.

"Perhaps not. But she's taking your virtual death rather poorly--" Greer glanced at the monitor where the simulated Shaw was engaged in stealing a hearse; Root couldn't help but smile at that.

"A few hundred more scenarios where you bleed out in her arms," said Lambert, "or maybe we'll tweak the simulation so that you die at her hand." 

"After which Samaritan will offer to return you to her safe and--" Greer's gaze flicked to Root's deaf ear "--more or less sound."

"And I'm certain she'll feel more co-operative," Lambert finished. "On that note, I think visiting hours are over for today."

*

The longer they kept her alive the more confident Root became that the Machine was still eluding Samaritan. Greer and Lambert might talk a good game about using Sameen's feelings for her as a recruitment tool - Sameen _had_ feelings for her; Root should have been ecstatic, instead she felt guilty and sick - but Root knew that the second she was no longer useful as a chip against the Machine they wouldn't hesitate to put a bullet in her brain. 

Root hadn't been allowed to see Shaw since that first day, and neither Greer nor Lambert had come calling. Instead brisk men and women in scrubs had come in to sedate Root into being quiet and calm, but thanks to her time in the mental hospital Root was well practiced in only pretending to take medication.

Root sat up, swung her legs over the side of the bed, and tugged out the IV she'd pinched closed. She looked straight into the security camera; she had faith that wherever the Machine was She'd be taking up as much of Samaritan's attention and processing power as possible.

Root stood, and the world tilted but then righted itself. The sedatives were out of her system and her equilibrium had been slowly but surely returning after the removal of her cochlear implant.

There were no guards in the corridor, and Root whispered a quick prayer: "Thank you."

Root had only been taken to Shaw's room once, and she'd been drugged to the gills, but she had no trouble remembering the way. She didn't run across any Samaritan assets until she met creepy Stewart outside the observation room.

"Wha--?" he began, and Root kneed him in the gut, she slipped behind him and wrapped her arm around his neck. Root left the chocked out nerd where he fell and headed over to the door that separated her from Shaw. There was a keypad next to the door, but before she'd been the Machine's interface or even a paid assassin she'd been a hacker of note, and hotwiring an electronic lock was nothing. 

The lock clicked off and the door swung open. Shaw was lying on the bed, still wearing those VR goggles. 

"Shaw?"

On a monitor next to the bed the simulation was still spooling out, it showed Shaw walking down a busy street with Bear on a leash. 

"Shaw?" Root shook Shaw by the shoulders. She heard a familiar sound, it was a New York payphone ringing. The Shaw in the simulation stopped and answered it.

"Sameen?" Root began hesitantly. "Can you hear me?"

On the monitor, Shaw smiled.


End file.
